


SEALs in the Antarctic

by Waldo



Category: NCIS: Los Angeles
Genre: Community: ncisdaily, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-03
Updated: 2010-03-03
Packaged: 2017-10-07 17:05:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/67219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waldo/pseuds/Waldo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>G screws up and now they have to sit through a stake-out.  Predictably, weird conversations ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	SEALs in the Antarctic

**Author's Note:**

> Written for NCISDaily prompt for March 3rd - The Simpsons. Which I hate, so they make the most minimal appearance as I could manage. :p
> 
> Hey look, this has nothing to do with "Missing". :) Or any canon episode.

Sam had been giving him the silent treatment for almost an hour. G knew that this god-forsaken stake-out was his fault, but he really did think it was a justifiable mistake.

"You ever gonna talk to me again?" G asked around his third sucker.

"I tackled a ship's captain," Sam groused.

G grinned. At least Sam was talking.

"It was an honest mistake. Kensi's handwriting _sucks_. On a base like Pendelton there's bound to be a slew of people with that last name. It's a little on the common side. And have I mentioned that Kensi's handwriting _sucks_? Dan Simpson? Don Simpson? It's an understandable mistake. There was no rank or assignment or anything else for me to pass on to you."

"Yeah," Sam conceded. "But I tackled a captain and accused him of selling meth."

"Yeah," G agreed, contritely. "But he seems to have forgiven us. Especially since we promised that we would get the actual guy named Simpson that our idiot petty officer named as his supplier before dying of an overdose of the stuff."

Sam sighed and slouched a little more comfortably in his seat. "Which leads us to sitting in the car at two in the morning, waiting for this jackass to slip out and meet his supplier."

Sam was talking to him, which was good, but G wasn't entirely sure he was forgiven. "There's a lot of people named Simpson in the world."

"Sure," Sam agreed. "I can think of Jessica Simpson, O.J. Simpson –"

"Bart, Lisa and Maggie," G put in.

"Yeah, because there's a little orange fourth grader running around selling meth on a Navy base."

"Never mind orange and ten, he's a cartoon. That would be weirder."

"No weirder than this conversation," Sam opined.

"If you count Jessica Simpson you have to count Ashlee Simpson."

"Count her for what?" Sam asked.

"I don't know," G mumbled. "The group of people with the last name of Simpson, I guess."

"There's George Simpson," Sam added.

"Who?"

"He was the meteorologist for Scott's expedition to the Antarctic."

G almost choked on his sucker. "Why the _hell_ do you know that?"

Sam shifted to actually look at him. "Being a SEAL got me onto the six inhabited continents. I haven't made it to Antarctica, but you know… some day. Maybe the next time Hetty decides to enforce mandatory leave for us… so I've been reading up."

"You know what happens to SEALs in the Antarctic, don't you?"

Sam made a face. He knew he'd regret asking. "What?"

"Eaten by killer whales."

Sam gave it his manly best, but he couldn't suppress a chuckle at that. Amazing how quickly G could make him forget that he should still be pissed at him.


End file.
